


Thinking Out Loud

by thedeviltohisangel



Series: Real Life Celebrities and Their AU Family [3]
Category: Irish Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/M, Protective Michael
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-03 03:30:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10958745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedeviltohisangel/pseuds/thedeviltohisangel
Summary: Michael's story line in my domestic series!





	Thinking Out Loud

Michael watched in slow motion as Eliana fell to a heap on the stage. The orchestra stopped, a violin squeaking as a collective gasp rang throughout the theater. He pushed himself out of his seat, ignoring all protocol and rules for the theater that his wife had painstakingly walked him through, and clambered his way to the stage, pushing himself up onto the platform. His shiny loafers slapped against the wood as he made his way over to her body, her choreographer already kneeling over her.

“She’s okay, she’s okay,” he muttered as he pushed her hair out of her face and brushed his fingers over her nose. “El? Where’s your kit, love?”

“She keeps her stuff in her dressing room,” the choreographer answered when Eliana’s head had just lolled into Michael’s palm with a groan. Michael scooped her up into his arms and jogged his way behind the curtains, which had closed once he had been by her side, following the choreographer to El’s dressing room.

He shouldered open the door and rested her onto the red velvet couch she had picked specially for its ‘level of fluff’ as she had phrased it. On her desk was her stripe and chain link patterned case where she kept her emergency glucagon injections purely for her ballet performances. He opened it frantically and removed her medication.

“You can yell at me about needles later,” he muttered.

Eliana woke with a hand softly combing its way through her hair and a warm thigh under her head.

“I passed out in the middle, didn’t I?” she whispered. Her husband’s hand faltered slightly before resuming its rhythm.

“Yes. But it’s okay. I got up there, and they pulled the curtain shut quickly.” He knew she was worried about lying on that stage and being exposed in such a way.

“I’m going to get fired.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions. I’m sure they would understand if you told them it was a medical issue and…” El sat up, making sure to go slowly, and gave him a signature glare.

“I’m an adult, Michael. I should be capable of managing my blood sugar. They don’t want a child in their company.”

“You’re healing,” he sighed as he attempted to rub away the creases between her eyebrows as a result of her stare.

“Apparently not fast enough if I still can’t bring myself to function properly when it matters most.” She stood up and stalked over to her vanity, sitting down and beginning to remove the makeup from her face. Michael stayed on the couch, knowing that eventually her frustration would break down into sadness and disappoint. He didn’t want to crowd her until she needed physical comfort which she normally did at that stage of the process. “I just can’t believe that I let that happen. That representative from the Paris Opera Ballet was here tonight and that’s the display they saw.” Her head dropped into her hands and Michael watched her shoulders rise and fall as if they supported the weight of the world.

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew that tonight had been special and this was a once in a lifetime opportunity for his wife.

“They’ve seen so much more of you than just tonight, El. If they base their whole decision off one performance, then maybe they aren’t the right fit for you anyways.” He dragged her ottoman over to her vanity and gently pulled the makeup wipe from her hands, wiping at the tear lines of mascara twirling their way down her face.

“Good thing I can just use you as my sugar daddy if things don’t work out,” she murmured softly as his hand continued to wipe away her mask of despair. He smiled his toothy grin for her.

“I got you. It’s gonna be okay, you’re going to be okay.” She leaned forward and tucked her head under his chin, nuzzling her way into her favorite spot that she had claimed on the night they met so many years ago.

“Do you want to go home and make a baby?” she whispered it into his chest, afraid of his reaction. It had only been them for so long and they hadn’t broached the subject of it except for in passing, always saying it’d happen when it was supposed to. Eliana figured that now that her dancing career might be over, it might be that time.

“Is this an actual request?” Michael responded into the top of her head, “Or a different way of asking me into your bed?”

“I think tonight was the sign I’ve been looking for. And I know you don’t believe in that crap and always make fun of me for doing so but…I’m ready.” She looked at him with wide eyes, the way a younger version of her might have looked at the popular girl, begging her not to disregard her. Begging her to notice.

“Then I’m ready too,” he whispered back. She couldn’t control her girlish giggle as she kissed him, or more like tackled him onto the floor.

“I love you so much, Michael,” she whispered into his throat as he shrugged off his jacket.

“I love you too, Eliana.” And on the floor of her dressing room, she learned how to leave her past behind.


End file.
